


Under the Moon

by Belsmomaus



Series: Hijo de la Luna [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But only a tiny bit, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attack, Romance, Tooth-Rottingly Sweet, the moon ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belsmomaus/pseuds/Belsmomaus
Summary: “Are the stories true? Were you really- were you really as white as the moon itself when you were born?”___After a successful mission Cassian and Bodhi need to wait until the next morning to leave the planet. So they spend the night at the shore of a lake. Under the moonlight...





	

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the promised sequel. I imagine this story to take place about three or four months after the last one.
> 
> It's just a tiny moment of their life together - or a shameless excuse to try myself at tooth-rottingly sweet fluff for once ;) (couldn't get rid of all the angst and h/c, though, it seems I'm incapable of that...)
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

 

“You’re beautiful.”

Calloused fingers trail softly along his jawline, through the rough hair that isn’t yet a beard but isn’t a stubble anymore either. It tickles. And Cassian would pull back if he weren’t transfixed by Bodhi’s eyes.

“Yeah, sure.”

He doesn’t believe him. Not really. He knows that he’s not unattractive, which had helped him in the past during one or the other mission and it hadn’t been all that hard to find a willing partner for the night whenever he’d felt especially lonely and had longed for any kind of company, of physical contact with another human being, no matter how fleeting. But no one has ever called him “beautiful”.

Tall mountain ridges, covered in snow, in front of an ice-blue sky are beautiful.

A planet full of oceans and forests, viewed from the endless darkness of space is beautiful.

The reflection of the pale moonlight on the softly undulating surface of the lake right in front of them is beautiful.

The way that errant strand of hair falls into Bodhi’s face is beautiful. And his big, dark eyes. The faint glistening on his lips from where he’d licked them a moment ago.

Cassian is nothing like those things.

A thumb strokes across his cheek. Once, twice, then the whole palm settles warm against his face. And another hand pushes his hair out of his face. Opens him up for the full force of Bodhi’s intense gaze, his eyes black in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the light of the full moon above and its flickering reflection on the water.

“You sell yourself short.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. He just wants to enjoy this rare moment of peace and time with the man he’d come to love. After their successful mission they’d needed to keep low until morning before they could leave undetected. And there’s no better place to spend a quiet, warm night than at the shore of a beautiful, shimmering lake, their ship hidden in the nearby woods and themselves protected by the tall grass all along the waterfront – seriously, 5 feet high blades of grass are quite _something_.

Bodhi is having none of it, though. And he’d certainly learned so far that if Bodhi has set his mind on something his stubbornness was more than a match for his own.

“Seriously, you-” Bodhi pauses, then frowns. And he pulls back a bit, his head cocked to the side, but his hands never breaking contact with his face. “You have no idea, have you?”

“Huh?” No, obviously he hasn’t for he doesn’t have a clue at all what Bodhi is talking about.

Bodhi smiles, the way he always does when he’s amazed by something. And then he pulls him closer and kisses him. Soft and reverent.

It’s over before it really begins.

“Your skin practically glows in the moonlight. It highlights the things you try to hide.”

“Then tell me, smart-ass, what do I hide?” It’s a challenge. But he’s also curious. And maybe a bit afraid of what Bodhi may see.

The other chuckles. And grins that charming, irresistible grin of his. “You won’t like the answer.” And then he kisses him again. Just as short as before and Cassian starts to hate him for it. He wants more. More kisses, but also more of that grin, of Bodhi’s voice, of listening to him. Just more of Bodhi. So he does nothing and waits as his lover lets go of his face and settles back, sitting right next to him, but facing him instead of the beautiful lake by night.

“You look younger. Softer. More vulnerable.”

He scoffs and presses his lips into a grimace. “You’re right. I don’t like that answer.”

“I do.” And Bodhi looks at him, takes him in as if he’s seeing him for the first time. There’s a hunger in his eyes that Cassian has never seen before. Not for sex. Not for closeness. For something else. Something Cassian has no idea how to give.

“I like to think that it’s the face of the Cassian that wasn’t hardened by loss and war.”

There’s a lump in his throat all of a sudden and he has to look away.

He’s very much aware of the moon all of a sudden. Up there, high in the sky, big and with an unfamiliar greenish tint to it. And he can feel its light on his skin now, like the barely-there caress of lashaa silk.

He looks down to their hands. Resting right next to each other on the mossy ground. Bodhi is right. There’s a strange, pale glow to his skin. You have to look closely to see it, but it’s there. A soft, bluish-white shimmer that’s lacking on Bodhi’s skin.

He doesn’t want to face the ‘what if’s’ of his life. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever.

But he wants Bodhi. And he doesn’t want him to worry.

So he takes the other’s hand in his, lifting it up between them to entwine their fingers.

“It also masks that awfully weak chin of yours.”

“My _what_?” He turns, indignant and outraged and- desperately trying to keep that expression on his face even in the wake of Bodhi’s amused laughter at pulling his leg.

He fails. Of course he fails. And they laugh together. And Cassian tackles his favorite pilot who is way too cheeky for his own good to the ground, presses him down in retaliation. But even that playful fight quickly flees his mind as they lay there, so very close that he can feel the vibration of Bodhi’s laughter in his bones and the warmth of his body even through his clothes.

And so he finds himself lying half next, half onto Bodhi, his right arm draped across the other’s chest and his head resting on his shoulder, inhaling the warm, earthy scent that’s Bodhi. Bodhi who pulls him close and trails his fingers over his hand, his forearm and back again.

He wants this moment to never stop.

He startles at the touch of fingertips against his wrist. At the unexpectedness. And the faint echo of an electric shock.

Bodhi is trailing along the crescent mark.

“Are the stories true? Were you really- were you really as white as the moon itself when you were born?”

The image of a happy, young couple and a pale baby with white hair comes to his mind. The memory old and a little faded. The original picture lost. A long time ago.

He nods. “It’s true. I don’t know how, but it is.”

“Not everything needs an explanation.” They lie in silence for a while, Bodhi still caressing the pale stretch of skin. “I can’t imagine you any other way. And I don’t want you any other way. But I would’ve loved to see you like that. See you for what you are, at the core of your heart.”

Then Bodhi takes his hand and pulls it up to place a kiss against the crescent moon.

And there’s the electric shock again.

He doesn’t wait around this time. Instead he pushes up, breaks his hand free of the other’s touch and reaches up to tangle it into long, tied back hair to pull Bodhi closer. And then he kisses him.

Not just a peck. Not just a fleeting caress or a teasing promise.

No, this was more. A need for closeness.

This was hunger. This was passion.

Hands roam over backs and chests and arms. Beards scratch against cheeks and lips and the soft skin along the neck. And the sound of panting and soft moans fills the air of a quiet night.

When Bodhi’s hands have found their way beneath his shirt, when they push it higher and higher in their eagerness to reach more skin, Cassian finally pulls back and sits up to get rid of his shirt altogether.

Bodhi’s eyes widen and his lips part in a breathless sound. “You’re- you’re kriffin’ gorgeous!”

He blushes, can feel the heat in his cheeks. But mostly he’s confused. Bodhi had seen him without a shirt before – hell, he’d seen him _naked_ for crying out loud – but he’d never reacted like _that_. At a loss, he looks down at himself.

That soft glow is everywhere. Subtle. But _everywhere_.

And all of a sudden he’s overly aware of the moonlight on his skin. Of the moon itself that watches over them.

He stops. Turns his head and stares up at the sky instead. Feeling naked. Exposed. Embarrassed?

“Are you alright?”

He nods. Looks back and meets Bodhi’s eyes only to look back up over his shoulder. He bites his lip. “Yeah, it’s just- it- it’s strange. Doing this outside.”

It’s not what he’d wanted to say but it’s the best he can do right now. Under the watchful eyes of the moon. The moon, who has protected him and hummed him to sleep and-

Bodhi laughs. “Oh, believe me, I know what you mean. I used to close the blinds in my room whenever I jerked off. Or did it at night. It’s strange being watched like that, but- it’s different than with your human parents.”

Is it? He wouldn’t know. His parents had been dead long before the word sex had entered his vocabulary.

Bodhi sits up, Cassian now straddling his lap. Bodhi rubs gently along his forearms, then takes his hands in his. It’s certainly distracting.

“I don’t think they have an understanding of intimacy. Not like we do. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Cassian, and I definitely don’t want to push you into anything. Just-” Bodhi’s gaze turns towards the full moon and he nods her way, “I don’t think she would mind. Rather the opposite, to be honest. She only wants you to be happy.”

Bodhi is right. They’re talking about the _moon_ after all. Sure, it’s where he comes from, in a way. He looks up at her for guidance, for comfort, but it isn’t the same. And he can’t – and won’t – lock himself up every time he wants to kiss the man he loves.

He’s taken too long to answer, or react in general. He knows the moment Bodhi carefully nudges his chin to make him look at him. There’s worry in his eyes. And vulnerability. Insecure in a way he’s never displayed before, not even after Bor Gullet, after losing his home.

“ _Are_ you happy?”

_Oh Bodhi! You stupid, stupid man!_

He smiles, without restraint, and reaches up to close his hands around the other’s face. “Do you really need to ask?” And he presses a kiss onto those lovely lips. And then another. And another. And he forgets about the moon in the sky, forgets about the moonlight reflecting on his skin while whispering “yes, yes, I’m happy, of course I’m happy, and it’s all your fault” against his lover’s lips and neck and ear and chest, breathing the words into his mouth and rubbing them into his skin.

Clothes spread all around them, like petals of a slowly opening blossom, and they make love under the blanket of moonlight and it’s soft and passionate, all at once. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of being loved like this and loving just as much in return. A love that lives on contact. On touch. Not just of bodies, but of souls as well.

 

***

 

Bodhi’s playing with his hand again. Trailing his fingers along Cassian’s forearm, along his wrist, over the back of his hand and down to his fingertips. And then back again.

It’s nice. He likes it.

They’re lying amidst their discarded clothes. Naked, but not cold. Tired, but not sleepy. And content. Absolutely content.

Bodhi is pressed against his side, one leg draped over him and his face nuzzled against his neck. His hair is loose now and a total mess and Cassian isn’t making it any better by lazily stroking through it. He loves the feel of it. Bodhi’s body is so incredibly warm against him. Just like his soft breaths that tickle his skin.

It’s still a bit strange, lying naked in the moonlight – not to mention everything else he’d done before – but he’s not embarrassed anymore. And he smiles up at the moon, bathes in its light that has brought him so much comfort – but also pain – in his life. He remembers the ache in his chest. That longing for _something_.

He’s found it now. And even though the time before had been hard he wouldn’t want it any other way. His path had led him to Bodhi and that’s the only thing that counts.

Bodhi tenses next to him.

Immediately alert he turns his head and tries to squint down at him, to find the reason for this sudden reaction.

“Um… Cassian? What…???”

He’s got no idea what Bodhi is talking about. But his fingers close around his own hand now, grab it, secure but gentle, almost careful, and pull it up.

And that’s when he sees it, too.

The white shape of the crescent moon is gone. Not vanished, but- there is no moon shape anymore because there is far too much white skin. It spans into his palm and up to his forearm and it’s _spreading_ right before his eyes.

_What the…_

He’s just staring, with big eyes and an open mouth. Staring and gasping. His heart beats an interesting rhythm to his quickening breaths.

Within seconds the whiteness covers his whole arm and reaches for his chest – and possibly his back.

That’s when he scrambles up and back, not caring that he practically pushes Bodhi off of him. His shock is gone but he wants it back. The shock hadn’t felt nearly as bad as the waves of panic that threaten to drown him now.

He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping against hope that it would all be back to normal if he opens them again. Of course it isn’t. Instead the whiteness has reached down to his legs. Even his nether regions are of an iridescent white.

There’re hands on his shoulders and a voice close by. “Breathe. _Breathe_! Cassian, come on, look at me. _Look at me_!” And he does. He looks at Bodhi. Bodhi who’s right in front of him. Confused and worried, but calm. “ _Breathe_ , Cassian. Breathe with me.”

And he does that, too. He trusts Bodhi.

And slowly his mind calms down again. He’s shaking and his heart is still racing, but he can _think_ again. Can see the wonder and awe in his lover’s eyes.

“Is this… Oh Force, Cassian, you’re… but _how_?”

He steels himself, but he knows what he’ll find already as he looks down at himself. His skin is white all over. His hands and arms, feet and legs, his chest, his belly, his penis, even his pubic hair for crying out loud!

He’s changed back. But how? _Why_?

This is the way he’s been born. The body he is supposed to have. The way he is supposed to look. But it frightened him. The otherness. The suddenness. The unexpectedness. The _complete lack of explanation_.

His eyes search for Bodhi, search for help. For answers.

He finds neither. Not in the way he wants.

He stumbles forward, towards the water. But after only one step he reaches out and clasps Bodhi’s hand in his own. Too hard maybe. He needs the support, though. The comfort of a familiar touch.

Together they head to the water and he sinks down onto his knees as he reaches it. He leans forward, hesitant, and stares at his reflection.

He doesn’t know the man who’s looking back at him. He knows the confusion and the fear in those eyes, but apart from that- he’s looking at a stranger.

The face as pale as the moon itself, white, maybe a touch of gray in it. The hair white as well, standing every which way and shimmering like the surface of the lake. Just like the beard. Even the stubble. And the eyes – those unbelievable eyes – a silvery gray. Alien and yet not, somehow.

He knows the lines of that face, has looked at them for so many years, but the face that looks back at him from the rippling surface can’t be his.

That face looks old and new at the same time. Mysterious and dangerous and yet open and innocent. There’s an incredible sadness to it. And happiness.

It’s beautiful.

His breath hitches.

And strong arms close around him. Pull him back. Turn him around until he’s pressed against a warm and solid chest. It smells like sweat and earth and sex and _Bodhi_.

“Is that me? Is that _really_ me?” The words are ragged and barely above a whisper.

He’s crying and he can’t say why.

“It is.” Bodhi sounds strange. As if he’s crying, too. Or trying very hard not to. “Gorgeous, like I told you.”

They stay like that for a long time.

He’s calm in the end. And oddly weightless.

“Do you think it’ll stay this way?” he asks, wary of the answer. He’s not ready for it.

Bodhi shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know how this works at all. But-” He looks up at the moon then back at Cassian and he smiles. “No, I think she only wanted you to see. To understand.”

A smile tugs at Cassian’s lips. It’s a bit shaky after everything, but it feels good. “Or she wanted to show _you_. You said you wanted to see… earlier...”

“I guess, we’ll never know, huh?” Bodhi chuckles. He gets up and back to their clothes, pulling him along. “Nevertheless, we should probably get some sleep.”

He’s not sure if he _can_ sleep like this. He settles next to Bodhi on the ground all the same, though, after they both slip into their pants but leave their shirts as a blanket beneath them.

One of Bodhi’s hands is buried in his hair, playing with it like he often does, no matter its color. The other one is curled around his own, trailing patterns along his skin. Tracing the spot on his wrist where not so long ago a white crescent moon had been. Cassian doesn’t think that he’s doing it on purpose.

Bodhi is warm and solid and _familiar_. And he feels his eyelids droop far sooner than he’d thought.

“Cassian? You remember the fairytales Jyn told us in medbay? After Scarif?”

“Mmh?” Fairytales? Where does that come from now? But he’s too sleepy and too comfortable to ask.

“You saved me. Back on Jedha. Twice. From the darkness of my own mind _and_ the Death Star. Not counting all those other times at night. After- when the nightmares- you know-”

“Mmh.” He nuzzles his face closer against Bodhi’s neck. He doesn’t like thinking of the nights he’d woken to Bodhi screaming and pleading for mercy. He doesn’t like remembering Jedha either. Doesn’t like how close he’d come to never knowing Bodhi at all.

“Well, it seems you’re my white knight in shining-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

 

***

 

He wakes up to bright daylight and buzzing insects and a smile on his face. Absolutely content. Bodhi’s earthy smell tickles his nose and he buries his face deeper into the neck and hair of his lover. Lazy like never before in his life he indulges, trails his flat hand slowly across Bodhi’s chest, feeling that warm skin. He knows they should get up, should leave the planet and head back to base, but he really doesn’t want to end this moment.

That is, until he remembers last night.

His surprise and shock and his fear. Bodhi’s comfort and his unwavering calm. His cheekiness. And he knows – _oh Force_ – he just _knows_ that he’ll never hear the end of this “white knight” nonsense.

He groans.

But honestly? He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Ultimately he gives in and opens his eyes. The sun shines brightly and he has to blink a few times to adapt. And blinks again as he looks down at his hand on Bodhi’s chest, just to be sure.

His skin-color is back to it’s usual tanned complexion. He’s relieved. Maybe that white skin is his heritage, but it’s not _him_. This is him, tanned with dark hair and still pale compared to the beautiful ochre of Bodhi.

A frown slowly creeps onto his brow. A curious one.

Sunlight is kissing them both with its warmth and its vigor and Bodhi is practically glowing with it. Quite literally. There’s a shimmer to his skin, a golden hue, like velvet and the simmering of air above heated sand.

He can’t help the smile. It’s unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with, just like the sun itself. Or his son.

But for all its force it’s a tender smile.

Bodhi is absolutely beautiful like this. He always is but _this-_

It’s amazing, really. They’re so different from one another and yet, somehow, the same. In a way.

They complement each other.

He could lay here and simply watch his Bodhi forever. His beautiful Bodhi, so radiant and warm and strong and fiery. So perfect.

And he looks up at the sun and does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

“Thank you!”

**Author's Note:**

> Penny for your thoughts?!


End file.
